


here where it seems no good word emerges

by seventhstar



Series: a covenant with a bright blazing star [9]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M, Major Illness, Marriage of Convenience, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Regency Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13893975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: Apologizing to Viktor is much more difficult than it seems.[part of an ongoing series of fics, telling the story of poor and scandalous trademan's son viktor nikiforov's marriage of convenience to the reclusive lord katsuki]





	here where it seems no good word emerges

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to cover a lot more than it did, but once I started writing I realized I could make the burn even slower.

Apologizing to Viktor is much more difficult than it seems.

Yuuri is not quick with his eloquence, as others are. The perfect phrase often comes to him after the conversation is over; he often finds when he is spontaneous he makes a fool of himself. For the best result, he ought to take his time, composing his apology the way Wordsworth composes verse, but the sight of Viktor unnerves him. Viktor’s words are the soul of politeness, and yet he gives Yuuri the distinct impression that it irritates him to have to breathe the same air Yuuri does.

Other than the prohibition on spellcasting, Dr. Lee’s treatments are simple: hearty meals, fresh air, and as much exercise as Viktor can bear. A chair is installed by the window for him to sit in; Yuuri has more carpets laid over the wood floor, in case he falls. His desk is dragged out of the bedchambers so that there is enough room for Viktor to walk about.

Though Yuuri has a mountain of responsibilities and has no excuse, now that the desk is gone, to spend every second of his time at Viktor’s side, he still intends to see him as often as possible. Surely then the opportunity to apologize will present itself.

His first attempt is in the morning. Yuuri finishes attending to his correspondence, and thinks longingly of the brief period when Viktor used to arrange for his breakfast tray, before going to say good morning. Outside the bedchamber door, Yuuri hears Betsy’s voice. He panics, remembering the cruelty of the servants, and charges in.

Betsy is helping Viktor dress.

In point of fact, she is lifting the nightshirt over his head, and Yuuri sees—

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, mouth bone dry, and goes back out into the hall.

Yuuri has been standing there for some time, very determinedly not thinking about Viktor’s bare stomach or thighs or nipples, when Dr. Lee arrives. He starts to go past Yuuri into the room. Someone snarls loudly at him the moment his hand touches the door. It takes Yuuri a moment to comprehend the low, animal noise is coming from his own throat.

“…I’m an idiot,” Yuuri says, finally, when he has swallowed down his irrational anger. _For god’s sake,_ he thinks, _Viktor still looks so ill, how can you think of bedding him? It’s not as if there is anything erotic about Viktor’s paper thin night shirt, or the fact that he still needs help dressing himself, so why am I like this?_

“There is no treatment for that,” Dr. Lee says.

Yuuri does go in to speak to Viktor once he has composed himself, but before he can get a word out, Viktor scolds him for frightening Betsy. All Yuuri can do is nod and promise not to chastise her, as if he would when she can make Viktor laugh.

His first chance wasted, Yuuri then tries again the next day, this time at lunch. He gathers his courage, makes sure all of the servants are elsewhere in the house, and collects a bouquet of wildflowers from whatever was lying dead on the lawn. He knocks before entering this time.

To his relief, Viktor is both awake and alone. He’s looking out the window. The lunch tray sitting in his lap is empty; only crumbs are left of the sandwich, only drops are left of the soup. Yuuri moves it to the table before setting down the flowers beside Viktor’s hand on his knee.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” Viktor says distantly.

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

He does not sound fine. Yuuri follows Viktor’s gaze out the window, to the dogs playing on the lawn: Dr. Lee’s Plato, and Yuuri’s Vicchan. They are wrestling happily, though Plato is twice Vicchan’s size. The sight brings a smile to Yuuri’s face. He’s glad that Dr. Lee’s dog likes it here at Yu-topia. At least someone in this household is enjoying themselves.

Viktor sighs.

“Viktor, I—”

“If you will excuse me, I ought to rest,” Viktor says. He staggers to the bed, lies down and pulls the counterpane under his chin. His face turned away, Yuuri cannot see his expression. But as Yuuri tries to form coherent words again, he remembers.

Makkachin. Viktor’s dog. Who is still in town, waiting for Yuuri to send instructions on her transport to Yu-topia. Yuuri nearly screams in frustration, so tired is he of his own idiocy, but he refrains from voicing any of this aloud. Clearly now is not the time to apologize. He’ll try again.

Of course, as soon as Yuuri wants to be alone with Viktor, everyone else in the house is wild to keep him company. Betsy seems to take twice as long to tend to Viktor as she did before, and their conspiratorial laughter echoes in the halls. Dr. Lee’s visits take hours; he takes copious pages of notes, and brings both dogs with him to give Viktor incentive to get out of the bed even when he is exhausted. Crisis after crisis drags Yuuri from Viktor’s side, into the fields where spring is just beginning, to the village where there are feuding bakers, to his study where he writes Minako a long letter full of lies to stave off a visit from her.

Viktor will give him a message to pass to the housekeeper regarding his meals, and will politely tell him he likes the flowers Yuuri brings (after he suggests Yuuri check their meanings in a flower dictionary. Yuuri has apparently brought him one bouquet that meant ‘passionate infidelity’.) But he won’t let Yuuri give him the apology he so richly deserves. He even teases Yuuri about the ink on Yuuri’s fingers once, but when Yuuri tries to linger after the doctor leaves to speak to him, Viktor loses all his levity and acquires a sudden desire to rest again.

Finally, Yuuri gives up and makes up his mind to do what he had originally promised himself he would not: apologize to Viktor before bed. Yuuri continues to sleep beside Viktor, wrapped in a cloak atop the covers, a state of affairs Viktor has not asked him to change. It is an awkward situation, and Yuuri is afraid that if Viktor hears his apology then he will either throw Yuuri out or suspect him of something untoward. All other strategies have failed, however, so one evening, a week after Dr. Lee arrived, Yuuri comes up after dinner early to retire.

Viktor is tucked into bed already, the candles blown out, but he sits up in surprise as Yuuri lets himself in.

“You’re going to bed?”

“Yes, I’m tired…”

“Of course.”

“Viktor, there is something I must say to you.”

“As it happens,” Viktor says, “I too have something I wish to discuss.”

Yuuri leans over the edge of the bed, eager despite himself to hear what Viktor might have to say to him. “What is it?”

“Did you really stay with me while I was ill?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“W-why? Of course I stayed with you, you were unwell!”

“So what if I was? Surely your servants could have nursed me as well as you could.” Viktor leans forward so that his nose is almost touching Yuuri’s. In the dim light, his hair almost glows. “Besides, don’t you still get to keep the money if I die?”

Yuuri recoils with such force he knocks over a chair.

“Is that really what you think of me?” But even as the words leave his lips, he knows it’s true. This is the moment he has been waiting for, but he freezes. He is beginning to despair of himself. _You certainly didn’t hesitate when you were berating him, you brute,_ Yuuri thinks. _Just tell him you are sorry!_

Yuuri opens his mouth to do so, but what comes out is, “My parents died here.”

Viktor stares at him.  
  
“Of magical fever, I mean. Here. In this room.”

“Yuuri, I—”

“I wasn’t here when they died,” Yuuri says, haltingly. “But I wanted to be here if you needed me. Viktor, I’m so—”

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Viktor says. His hands are fisted in the covers. “That was unkind of me. I promise I am not always such a shrew.”

“Viktor—”

“Please, forgive me.” Viktor holds out a hand.

Yuuri is entirely askew, his mind unable to grasp why Viktor should think he has to apologize for anything, and so he takes it. Viktor’s bare fingers are cold. Viktor’s expression is earnest, his face a little drawn, and Yuuri’s heart does a somersault in his chest. He squeezes Viktor’s fingers.

“No.”

“What?”

“I mean—” _Why do apologies have to involve speaking,_ Yuuri thinks in despair. If it could be done with interpretive dance, or crop rotation, Yuuri could do it justice. The words seem inadequate in his mind, and he cannot imagine saying them will lend them any more power. What a fool he is. If there was only something he could _do._

 _Wait. There_ is _something I can do!_

“I have to go to town.”

Luckily, Yuuri is still dressed. He summons his coat and hat from where they are hanging over the dressing room door. Is there anyone awake to saddle his horse? There is likely not, but that’s fine, Yuuri can do that much himself. One of Viktor’s lightning lamps will keep him from riding into a tree. Minako will put him up for a few nights. He jams the hat on his head.

“Wait, now? In the middle of the night?”

“Yes, please wait for me!”

“Please wait—where would I even go?”

Yuuri doesn’t bother replying, since it is unlikely he will make any more sense than he has so far. He is on the road to town before he knows it, riding through the dark with his coat unbuttoned and no cravat, with only the letter from his man in town in his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are very appreciated! i love them


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